Guilt is the very nerve of sorrow
by mymuseandi
Summary: Sam thought that the guilt of Dean getting hurt because of him would eat him alive from the inside.


**Disclaimer:** They belong to no one, least of all me.

**A/N:** So, this is for roque_clasique's comment!fic meme birthday, where she gives prompts and we filled it for her. I'm really really late for this, but i hope she likes it!

Title is from a quote by Horace Bushnell.

***SnSnSnSnSn***

Sam thought that the guilt of Dean getting hurt because of him would eat him alive from the inside.

_I can do this by myself, Sam_

_Shut up, Dean. Let me do it for you._

_Get your hands off me! I can do this._

Sam ignored his brother and pushed the wheelchair he was currently sitting on along the ramp leading towards the main doors of the high school. Dean's left arm was currently in a cast, his left ankle was swollen, and twice its usual size and his right knee was swollen as well, both joints heavily bandaged.

All these injuries were a direct result of him being thrown to a headstone during Sam's first salt and burn, a consequence of him hurling himself between Sam and the spirit whose body they were digging. Sam was all right, but Dean wasn't so lucky, breaking his arm twisting both his knee and his ankle. John had to drive him to the 24-hr clinic located on the edge of the town they were staying. They came out of it two hours later with a cast-and-bandaged Dean on a borrowed wheelchair and a prescription for Vicodin.

Dean wanted to stay home to recover, but a call to the school on Monday revealed that if Dean didn't appear for the classes and finished the assignments, he wouldn't be able to graduate with his class in six weeks' time. And Dean _really_ wanted to end his education as fast as possible, so he had gritted his teeth and agreed on the wheelchair, since there was no conceivable way he could be using crutches. John told him that it was a good thing Dean broke his left arm, and not his right.

Dean didn't think so.

On Tuesday, Sam wheeled his older brother into his first class of the day, and everyone stared at them when they came in. Sam deposited his brother at the front of the class, despite Dean's protests that he would be better off at the back. He patted Dean on the shoulder and informed both the teacher and his brother that he would be coming back after class to pick him up.

This pattern followed throughout the day. After the bell rang, Sam would rush out of his class to get to Dean's, and get him to his next class before going to his own. He was late for half of his classes, but since the news about Dean in a wheelchair had spread throughout the school, the teachers were sympathetic. A couple of Dean's classmates offered to help move Dean around, even Dean tried to chase him back to his class, but Sam would just shake his head, and Dean would just sigh and joked that Sam was his slave for the week.

They attracted a lot of stares and questions. They ignored the stares and Dean countered the questions with jokes and lewd suggestions of sponge baths.

Sam said nothing.

He even had to help his brother to the bathroom, and Dean had remarked then that it was a good thing that he had a brother, because it would be damn awkward if Sam was actually Samantha.

Sam didn't even crack a grin.

Fortunately, they shared the same lunch period, so both brothers found themselves in the cafeteria, eating unappetizing hotdogs and watered-down milkshakes that Sam had collected. Unsurprisingly, both of them only managed a few bites. Dean, because he was grumpy and tired of sitting all day, and Sam, because he was feeling guilty for letting Dean get hurt in the first place.  
_  
You know this wasn't your fault, right, Sam?_

Sam didn't reply.

They finished their lunch in silence.

***SnSnSnSnSn***

The routine continued for the whole week, and for the same week John didn't go anywhere except for his part time work over at the local garage. When the next weekend rolled around the swollen ankle had died down a little, and Dean had become quite adept at handling things even with his cast in the way. He was relatively sure he could use the crutches when he returned to school the next Monday. He started to practice with them on Saturday, and on Sunday he pretty much got the hang of using the crutches they got over at Goodwill, so he announced to Sam that _I wouldn't need your services anymore, thank you very much, and you can go back to your classes and your homework and your Math Club. _

Sam just shook his head and finally smiled a small relieved smile and told him that_ it's the Science Club, you idiot, and you'll still need me to make sure you to don't fall headfirst on the floor while you limp your way around the school._

Monday morning came, and along with it was Dean's ankle swelling up again, so there went the crutches and back with the wheelchair. To add insult to the already severe injury, Dean banged his forehead on the handles of the wheelchair when he attempted to get to it without John or Sam's help and added another blue black bruise on his forehead by the time they finally reached their school.

Dean had gym as the last class that day, and so Sam got a special pass from the nice lady at Student Welfare and both of them left early. When they got home, there was a note from John saying that he would be going to the next town to check out a possible hunt. Sam set out to cook some mac and cheese for both of them. Everything was going well until Dean went to the bathroom and managed to slip on the tiles, going down with a loud surprised yell. Sam ran to the bathroom and found Dean on the floor, clutching his knee and groaning. The knee looked even more swollen than the ankle, which was an achievement. Sam helped his brother back to bed and re-bandaged his knee. He kept watch while his older brother was drugged with Vicodin to keep the pain at bay.

The guilt that had been receding returned with a vengeance.

At the end of Tuesday, both of them got accosted by the principal and led to the sick bay. The nurse stayed with Dean, while Mr. Giovanni had a talk with Sam with a partition separating them, as if that could stop the voices from carrying to Dean's ears.

_Are you okay at home, Sam?_

_Is your father working, Sam?_

_What happened to Dean, Sam? _

So many questions, and Sam couldn't answer them all.

Although this wasn't the first time that a well-meaning outsider had some concerns, Sam was still as nervous. Dean had taken on the blank, stone-faced look when it was his turn, and miracle of miracles, they escaped from both adults' clutches soon after that.

John was home when they returned, wanting to know why they were late. Reluctantly, Sam conveyed what had happened. John drew in a wearied breath, and suddenly, Sam thought that his father had aged five years in front of his eyes. John looked up and met Sam's eyes, and Sam knew they were going to have to move before CPS barged in. He turned to look at Dean, and Dean nodded his head in acquiesce.

The next day, both boys stayed at home while John drove to the high school to get their school records before moving. Sam packed as much and as hurriedly and as quietly as they could. Dean tried to help, but John wheeled him to the Impala when he returned and ordered him to stay there while the other two Winchesters packed their worldly belongings. Three hours later, they were on their way out of town, Sam in shotgun while Dean was relegated to the back seat.

John drove to three towns over, and stopped at one of the nicer motels to bunk in for the night. John carried a drugged Dean into the room, while Sam followed sleepily behind with the bags. He fell back to Slumberland immediately upon hitting his head on the pillow.

***SnSnSnSnSn***

Sam awoke to John and Dean's murmurings the next morning. He kept his eyes closed and tried to stay as still as a statue as he listened to their conversation.

_I'm sorry, Dad._

_It wasn't your fault, Dean. We'll get to the next state, and we can find another town while you and Sam finish this year._

_Dad? I don't want to go to school anymore. _

_Dean, we've been through this._

_I'll be held back a year, Dad. I don't want to go through another senior year. And I don't see the point of having a diploma that I'm not going to use._

_You need the diploma, Dean. You need to have choices._

_I've already chosen what I want to do, Dad._

_Are you sure about this, Dean?_

_I'm sure._

_All right, then._

***SnSnSnSnSn***

Before, Sam thought that he would never feel as guilty as he had been when Dean protected him at the graveyard.

He thought wrong.

***SnSnSnSnSn***

**Prompt:** Teen!chesters. Sam is a freshman, Dean is a senior, and Dean gets busted-up on a hunt and is confined to a wheelchair (permanently or not, your choice). Problem is, if he wants to graduate on time (which holy christ, does he), he has to go to class. Sam helps him out big-time.

Thanks for reading! Now back to my other fic... :p


End file.
